Saving Sweets: A Really Super Rough, Rough Draft

Well hello, friends.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? No, no, I’m not mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t you, it was me. I just…needed some space and some time to think. I didn’t want to drag you into anything because you deserve so much more…

Heh. Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.

In all seriousness, I wrote a post last night that detailed what all has happened since March when I first told you about my idea of going to Georgia, so that I could tell some prostitutes about the Almighty.

By the sixth page, I realized I was tired and that there was about a 100% chance you wouldn’t give a rat’s patootie about it all.  

You say you do, but let’s be real. Ain’t nobody got time to read a 20 page blog post talking all about me. Good gravy.

That would be obnoxious.

So I’ll just bless you with four and a half pages. You’re welcome. I'm Enter happy, so chill.

Long story boring, a week or two before I was planning on heading to Georgia, I couldn’t shake the uneasiness about going. I ended up throwing a temper tantrum deciding to stay in Texas and interview for jobs instead.

I hate being responsible sometimes.

I know, I know, I heard it plenty: “but you have the rest of your life to work. Go enjoy the summer.”

Yeah, well, when you feel like you’re forcing the summer to happen and doing it solely because you told so many people (ahem, refer to previous blog), then something isn’t right.

Anywho. I stayed in Texas, went to California for a week, refreshed, landed a job, moved to the Houston area, and have been thoroughly enjoying my time in prison. In fact, I’m planning on doing 35 years without parole.

Unless I have babies.

If that ever happens, I’ll probably send for an appeal.

Hashtag babies don’t belong in prison.

Anywho. Adulting is weird. Bills are stupid. Moving to a new town is lame (because I would really rather be in Tyler, but Jesus said no).

And don’t even ask about student loans.

I’m avoiding that subject like the plague until my six month probation period is up and I have to start eating beans and bread for the next ten years. Thanks a lot, Way Too Expensive College Tuition. This time it really was YOU and not me. Stupid.

But I must say, my first big girl purchase was GLORIOUS: an antique copper, 5-quart KitchenAid mixer (with a glass bowl, HOLLA) that has a constant light from heaven shining on it and angel music playing every time you look at it. Yeah. It’s THAT awesome. And beautiful. And magnificent. And amazing. IT’S JUST SO PERFECT.

Thanks to this beautiful new friend, I’ve been baking sweets for my coworkers every week. It’s the best.

I come home from work, put on some Michael Bublé Pandora, and sing sweet love songs into the dough. It’s magical.

Don’t you dare look at me with those judgmental eyes. You know good and well if you have Michael Bublé or Frank Sinatra singing sweet nothings into your ear, you’d be all oooey gooey inside and do whatever it is that they ask of you (within Jesus limits, of course).

That’s all I’m doing for the cookies, cupcakes and brownies, okay? I’m in love, they’re in love. We’re all in love love love love, craaaazy love.  

So with my edible love children blessing work each week, I’ve had a few people place orders already. Mission accomplished: make people fall in love with my baking, have them buy the goods, make extra money for student loans. Ba da bing, ba da boom.

But something inside me remained unsettled.

***Side bar: this entire summer has been slightly difficult. It’s like graduation happened, cheers, yay for being done with school, and BAM.

I freaked out because real life was happening and I couldn’t handle it. I was also melting inside (the bad kind) because I wasn’t in Romania.

My babies. My heart. Oh how it hurts.

As most of you know, the last two summers have done a number on me. There is a part of my heart that is overseas that I know I’ll never get back. The hole that’s there has never been more present than it has this summer as I saw friends loving on the babies I am supposed to be loving on. I’m supposed to be there. I’m supposed to be giving them kisses, singing lullabies, and praying over them. I’m supposed to be getting hit with their toys, spit up on, and frustrated that they’re not doing what we’re praying so hard for them to do.

Blah. I’ll stop there before my two-year-old side comes out even more.

Anywho. I’ve been praying that the Lord would show me exactly what He wants me to do since I decided against Georgia. I’ve been praying that He would show me where He wants me to go and to just do something so that my heart would feel a tad more than heartache.

So naturally when I felt Him trying to talk to me, I cluttered my life so I wouldn’t have to listen.

Makes sense, right?

I know you do it, too. So shush it.

Again with the long story boring, I’ve spent the summer running away and yet praying for a miracle because I’m a brat my heart hurt.

God answered.

He gave me a bum leg, which forced me into rest.

Hashtag thanks a lot Jesus.

***End of side bar.  

About two weeks ago, I really felt Him trying to talk to me. Prior to the leg ordeal, I finally hit my knees and begged God to get rid of everything that’s been getting in the way of Him. Cue temper tantrum 23,409,324 for the summer.

I didn’t want to declutter, but I knew I had to if I wanted to hear His voice.

And I so desperately needed to.

The whole leg ordeal has just been icing on the cake. It has allowed me to spend the hours I would normally spend running with Jesus instead.

Hashtag seriously thank you Jesus.

So here comes the whole purpose of this entire blog (sorry not sorry for rambling so much).

I HAVE AN IDEA.

Brace yourselves.

It’s big.

Saving Sweets.

What you do you think?!?!?!?! Fantastic, huh?!?!

Yeah, that’s about all I know of it, too.

Kidding (kind of).

The other night, I was drifting off into la la land when the Almighty slapped an idea into my head.

I’ve been yearning to serve people but haven’t known in what capacity ever since I gave up the idea of Georgia.

Hello, Haley. It’s pretty stinking obvious. I love to bake. I love to share my edible love children with others. I love to love people. I love to tell people about the ultimate Love. Love love love love, crazy love.

So why not make a business of baking and serving others?

HEYO.

In true Jesus fashion, He has given me the idea but there’s really nothing more than that. I will, however, share my extremely rough ideas (heck, even then name is subject to change).

Saving Sweets would be an opportunity to share the love of Jesus with the least of these. Instead of charging $15 for a dozen cookies, I would charge $25. The extra $10 would go into a fund that would ultimately provide (food, water, clothes, cookies, Ihavenocluejustyet) for the homeless around Houston. I love building relationships with those who don’t know Jesus. So why not do that? Actually bring good news to those who don’t know Him? Hmmm. That’s an idea. Sounds like something Jesus would tell us to do.

I’ve thought about something along the lines of: for every dozen of cookies I bake for you, I bake an extra dozen to give to the homeless and share the love of Christ with them as we enjoy some tasty treats. Then there’s the idea of using the extra money to go towards a ministry overseas. OR instead of homeless, maybe prostitutes or abused women.

The possibilities are endless and I LITERALLY CAN’T EVEN wrap my mind around it all.

I feel like a little piglet who has found mud for the first time.

Ultimately, a certain percentage will be added to the total amount of your order and all of the profits will go where He tells it to go. Not to my pocket for loans, but to His account to serve others. I know the loans will be taken care of in due time. And since it’s your money, you’re serving God’s people, too. HEYO.

My heart is overwhelmed by God’s grace and mercy. I’ve been a brat all summer long and yet He has been faithful. And I know He will continue to be as we journey along this next phase of life together.

For a while now, my prayer has been, “More of You, Jesus, and less of me.”

More spreading His word, less worrying about loans. More time in His truth, less time worrying about my weight and marathon training. More about praising His name, less about trying to bring attention to myself.

In this season of rest, I will surrender all that I am. Less of me, Jesus. So much more of You.

It’s so sweet, isn’t it? The way God tenderly picks us up and embraces us when we are trying to resist Him?

I remember last summer when my boy, Tibi, was throwing the worst fit I had ever experienced. He was scared. He was confused. His little mind didn’t know what to think. I remember grabbing him and holding him tightly, rocking back and forth, singing “Jesus, Love of My Soul.” He hit me, bit me, kicked and screamed, until finally he took a deep breath and relaxed. An hour later, I continued to hold him, rock him, and sing to him until we could both move on.

That’s exactly how I picture our Savior with us. We get so caught up with life, so caught up in everything but Him. Then we become confused, frustrated, and afraid. When He tries to embrace us, we try to run away and fight it with all our might.

But lo, His embrace never fails. His love always win. We surrender, He has His way.

Oh, praise Him.

So with my crazy baking business idea, please feel free to give ideas or help out in any way the Lord has gifted you. If you’re tech savvy, teach me your ways on how to create a website (or just do it for me to save us both from pain). If you are business/money savvy, share the knowledge. If you have any other ideas and won’t be offended if I decide against them, please share.

Also, if you need any sweets baked, HIT ME UP. I had my first order go out last week, two coming up this week, one in September, and a couple, “Imma get you to do this party for me so I don’t have to do anything.”

Until the Lord reveals exactly how He wants this business run, the extra funds will be set aside and never bothered with until He tells me what to do with it. Your money is safe, people.

Please be gentle and kind in your thoughts about it all. This is truly my baby that I’ve been incredibly excited to share. While she may look a little deformed and odd (I’ll have to take the blame for that since Jesus is perfect), I’m confident she will grow into something beautiful, Lord willing.

I have no clue what I’m doing, but I trust our Savior will come in clutch as I continue to pray, “More of You, less of me.”

My prayer is for you to do the same.

Father God, I pray in this season of rest, You will make your voice heard. I’m tired of kicking and fighting you, I’m tired of trying to do life my way. I pray that You remind us all of who You are. You are such a good, good Father. When we deserve it least, You love us most. My prayer for everyone is that they would surrender all that they are, letting go of the chains that bind them, so that they can hear Your voice loud and clear. Our purpose here on earth is to do the work You have called us to do: love You and love others, bringing You all the praise and glory in everything we do. I praise You for never giving up on us. Remind us, Lord, less of us and more of You. Have Your way with me. Amen.  

My Meme Says I'm A Perfect Peach

 

 

 

About a month ago while standing outside the curbside taco stand, a dear friend of mine shared some wise words with me. “When you graduate, just go crazy. You’ve got nothing holding you back. No relationship, no kids, no huge responsibility. Just go, move somewhere new. Go crazy.”

Mind you, he is a Godly man and his meaning of “crazy” does not line up with the world’s term “crazy.” Don’t panic, people.

The words just go filled my mind and overwhelmed my heart.

It’s what I had always dreamed of doing but now it seemed that once someone told me to go, I finally had the permission I had been longing to receive.

At first, I wanted to get away for selfish reasons. I want to go on an adventure one last time before reality starts.

**Side note: I graduate in May, but the time span from when I graduate to when I will take my licensing exam and finally become licensed is about 4 months. Hence why I am able to get away without starting my big girl job.

Back to dream land.

I had this Hollywood movie idea of moving to a big city, working as a waitress, and traveling across the U.S. on the weekends. Kind of like a “go find myself” type thing.

Then it hit me.

And by “it” I mean Jesus.

Go to Georgia.

I distinctly remember hearing His voice. I was at my Meme’s the night before my half-marathon and was busy taking her dog out one last time before we went to bed. I’ll never forget the feeling and chills that ran down my spine.

Really? Georgia? I guess I’ll just be a small town waitress like an old country song. Ok, that’s fine. I’m all about being that girl in a song.

The next day after the race, I put on my charm bracelet. As I went to clasp it together, I saw my charm of Georgia with a heart in it that Mom gave to me two years ago when I went to Atlanta for the Passion Conference.

Hmmm. That’s a cute little coincidence.

Two days later, I pop my ear buds in, turn on Pandora to the oh, so fabulous Michael Buble station and lo! His version of “Georgia on My Mind” came on.

Starting to get a little freak-ay!

Three days after this, I get a birthday card in the mail from my Meme.

Guess what it talked about……

Being the perfect peach.

OK JESUS. I HEAR YOU.

I contacted a sweet friend of mine that I spent a week with in Romania at the baby hospital. Their family lives in Georgia, along with a few other families I have grown close to thanks to the last two summers. I told her about what the Lord had placed on my heart and asked for prayer in order to determine whether this was a selfish dream of mine or if it was truly something the Lord wanted me to do.

I also let another dear friend know who also lives in Georgia, plus my parents, and a few friends here in Tyler.

This is just a prayer, y’all. No set plans or anything. So yeah, just say a little prayer ‘cause it sounds pretty crazy. Please and thank you.

The more I started to pray about it, the more my plans of being adventurous and selfish began to fade. I started thinking about how I could use this summer to work for His kingdom, how I could love His people, let others know of who He is.

Then I remembered my dreams of doing the World Race, which is a mission trip consisting of going to 11 countries in 11 months. I went to the website that I have drooled over for months and started to look at the numerous routes they had open.

I found one I liked and hit the “apply now” button. I would head out in July and return 11 months later. THEN I could start real life.

I filled out my contact information but stopped before going any further. The next day, a recruiter called, left a message, and sent an email.

I ignored it.

One Sunday afternoon, the husband of a family I’m close to let me know of their July trip to Uganda. He said, “There are a million reasons TO go, now you just need to think of reasons NOT to go.”

Touché.  

So at this point, I had Georgia on my mind, the World Race, and now Uganda.

Oy.

On one particular morning run, I began praying through these options. Then my mind started worrying about the thousands of dollars of loans I have waiting for me. I freaked out.

Lord, I’ve got to pay for those! No man will want to marry me with all that. Even if he does, that’s a lot of money. I’m a cheap date, remember! I won’t be any more with these loans! I’ll just stay here and work. I’ll be a waitress at three different places, study hard for the licensing exam, become licensed, and for the next two years, I’ll work five jobs to pay off all the loans. There! I’m glad that’s settled, Lord. Thanks for that.

Yeah, you don’t have to tell me.

I’m blaming those idiotic thoughts on lack of coffee.

The next few weeks were spent worrying about life after graduation. Do I go here? Do I work there?

I had a million plans in mind but nothing sounded right.

The only Truth I could hear in the madness of my mind was the Lord’s voice saying, “wait, beloved.”

Wait on what, God? Do you realize graduation is like two months away? If I’m going to move, I need to find a place to live! If not, I need to start finding jobs! You need to tell me something!

He was, though. He was telling me to wait. Rest. Listen.

I started to beg and plead with Him, crying out and asking for Him to take away my dreams, my plans, my desires and to let me hear His voice.

Show me how to listen then. I don’t know how, God. I don’t know what it means to wait or to rest. Dear God, I’m begging You. Please just show me how to do this.

Every time my mind began to think of the summer and the future, I started to give it to the Lord. When I started to panic about what to do, I pulled scripture to mind.

If He provides for the ravens in the sky or the lilies in the field, He will provide for me. He told the Israelites what to do, He will tell me what to do. David felt lost and alone, but God was near to Him. He is near to me.

Eventually the chaos started to die down and my heart started to settle.

Georgia, beloved.

I started to look at organizations in Atlanta that worked with girls and women who had been sex trafficked. Atlanta is known for having the highest rate of sex trafficking, but also having the highest sex tracking outreach organizations. I stumbled upon one and emailed one of the directors. A few days later, we had a phone conversation and talked about how I would be providing psychoeducation to the homeless girls, age 18-21, as they come in off the streets.

She let me know that they would have a place for me if I chose Georgia for the summer.

I let my dear friend in Georgia know that the pull was stronger for Georgia.

With a giving heart, she offered up their basement apartment to me.

I asked a friend of mine here in Tyler if she would want to rent my apartment for the summer.

She did.

I let one of my supervisors know that I would be interested in continuing to work with them when I receive my license in August.

With a huge smile on her face, she let told me to update my resume and that we would be talking soon.

I told her of my plans of moving away for the summer and asked if it would hinder my chances of working there.

“We know your timeline, girl. That doesn’t bother me one bit.”

While searching for more organizations, I stumbled across one that reaches out to the prostitutes. As a volunteer, I can spend my Friday nights on the streets handing out roses to the prostitutes and telling them of Jesus, giving them the crisis hotline number, and providing a way out. Another aspect of the organization allows me to spend Saturday mornings in the hotels with the girls when they aren’t working, allowing us to build better relationships with them. Yet another aspect is where I can go into the jails and minister to the girls who have been arrested. There are still three other aspects to this organization, all dealing with building relationships with and sharing the love of Christ with the prostitutes of Atlanta.

I’ve already sent the email asking what I need to do in order to become a volunteer.

So here we are: I have a place to live in Georgia, someone to take care of my apartment here in Tyler, a potential job in Georgia for the summer, an organization screaming my name, and a potential job waiting for me when I get back.

The doors I had been asking for God to open were indeed open.

Now it was just a matter of walking through them.

But what about Uganda, the World Race, the loans?

As soon as fear tried to sneak into my mind, the Lord quickly shut it down.

Don’t worry, beloved. I will take care of you. Just take one step at a time. You have My hand. Don’t be afraid.

This weekend, my parents came up to Tyler to support me while I ran another race. I laid out my plans for them on Friday night. At this point, they really only knew I wanted to get away for the summer and that Georgia was one of the prayers. None of my plans or that I’ve been talking with people. Nothing.

Y’all, I basically had a presidential speech going.

Here’s what I’ll be doing, here’s how I’ll be doing it, this is the plan for before, during, and after. Here are the names of my agents, body guards, and police escorts. And finally, while it sounds like I know what I’m doing, I’m actually pretty terrified and need to know if you think it’s ok because I feel like I’m two years old and don’t even know how to tie my shoe laces.

Naturally, they gave the ok that I’m sure I didn’t truly need but desperately wanted. They have been my rock for the last 24 years and while I know I’m technically an adult who can make my own decisions, I would be lost without their guidance. Maybe it’s an age thing, maybe it’s a maturity thing, but I’m realizing now more than ever just how important my parents are to me.

So there you have it, folks. This is my moving away and being crazy story.

I’ve let my dear friends in Georgia know that I’ll be coming home to them, as well as the organizations I plan to work for/volunteer at that I’ll be moving to good ol’ ATL.

One by one, I’m walking through the doors the Lord has so graciously opened.

Yes, I have some backup plans in mind. If I’m unable to be paid at one organization after all, I’m not opposed to being a waitress. Then this kind of would satisfy my romantic side of wanting to be THAT girl in a song. You know, the one that works at a small town diner that the singer falls in love with and finally asks her out after he comes in every day for two weeks straight and orders nothing but coffee that he doesn’t even drink because he really just wants to see her……

Shhhh. Don’t tell me that would never happen. Just let me keep dreaming.

The summer is less than two months away and while there is still so much to do, I’m confident that the Lord will take care of me. He always has, He always will.

I know this will be another difficult summer. I’m sure I will experience things that are pretty brutal and disgusting.

But the Lord has my heart and wherever He needs me is where I will go.

Please pray with me as the journey continues to unfold.

I encourage any of you reading this to start praying about how the Lord can use you this summer. Well, not JUST this summer, but every day. Ask for Him to give you the strength to do hard things, to go wherever it is that He needs you to go, and to give you the courage to actually follow Him.

He will never let you down. You’ll be amazed at all He can do when you take one little step outside of your comfort zone in obedience.

Like another wise friend of mine has told me, “where your fears are, there is freedom on the other side.”

Don’t be afraid. The Lord will walk you through the hard stuff and will be waiting for you with arms opened wide when you make it to the other side.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” Psalm 32:8

Heartaches and Lifeboats

Picture this:

You’re out on the ocean with the love of your life, both steering the wheel on a beautiful ship with sights set on a journey meant to last forever. You both notice a few dark clouds in the distance, but you brush it off as a storm that will quickly pass. Before setting sail, you had made a commitment to stick through the storms, preparing and planning for the worst of them. A few dark clouds were nothing compared to the some of the storms you knew the two of you would face.

The waves start crashing a little more than expected. You still believe with all your heart that it’s nothing you and your love can’t endure. But what you don’t realize is your love is beginning to fear the storm.

You race to get rain coats and life jackets. You grab hold of the steering wheel tight and squint your eyes, focusing on trying to find the clear skies ahead. You become so focused on facing the storm that you can’t see the terror in their eyes.

Right when the worst is about to come, your love tells you they can’t see facing this storm together. Confused, you start questioning them and telling them everything you can think of to make them understand it’s only a small storm; it’s nothing the Lord can’t carry you both through.

But it’s too late. The lifeboat has been thrown; your name is written on the side.

Confused, broken, angry, you plead your cause one last time.

The lifeboat is lowered.

You’re on your own to face the storm alone.

Determined to make it, you shift your focus back on the clear skies ahead, searching and scanning, desperately trying to find some light in the darkness.  

The confusion and anger continue to flood your mind, but you shake your head and begin praying even more to the only One who can save. Scripture floods your mind and through your tears, you start to see a break in the clouds.

Your heart starts pounding, the engine strains, you continue racing faster toward the peace you know lies ahead.

The rain lets up, the sting in your eyes starts to ease. You begin to shout to the Lord, praising Him for providing shelter when you least expected it.

You’re almost through the storm. The light is shining brighter than you could have imagined.

You see the dock ahead with a figure standing, waiting with arms stretched out.

You keep racing, keep straining the engine, keep focusing on the Man waiting for you.

Before it can come to a stop, you’re scrambling to get out of the lifeboat. You run as hard as you can, throwing off the rain jacket, brushing the hair away from your face.

In one swift motion, you’re grabbed and lifted up into the strongest arms you’ve ever been embraced by. Tears pour from your eyes, both from exhaustion and overwhelming joy.

That’s when the sweetest voice whispers in your ear, “Do not be afraid, little flock. I have chosen you and not rejected you.”

And in that moment, a peace like you’ve never known overwhelms you.

Hand in hand, you walk away from the dock and continue on your journey, trusting that the road you never expected to be on is, in fact, just the road you needed to be on after all.

Amazing, isn’t it? You think you’re on sail for one destination only to be overthrown and heading some place you least expected.

Well, that’s exactly where I’m at.

A week before the “month of love” starts, I found myself with a never worn little black dress, tags just taken off, heading back to Tyler.

Alone.

Dumb. Really, really dumb.

Just like in the story above, anger, hurt, and confusion flooded my mind. It was easy to point the finger, one moment at myself and then the next at them. One thought was filled with, “how dare they say that,” and the next filled with, “Lord, I trust You.”

Break-ups suck.

Whether you’ve been dating for twenty days or twenty years, whether you’re the one doing the dumping or the one being dumped, they’re awful.

Dumb. Just really stinking dumb.

Hearts are broken, angry words are said, and confusion becomes your best friend.

They’re everywhere. Things in your apartment, pictures in frames, songs on the radio.

Dumb. SO DUMB.

At some point, however, you have to wipe the rejection stamp off your forehead and live the life you’ve been given.

For me, that usually doesn’t take too long to do. I mean…I’m Haley stinking Peddy, after all.

I’m a fighter. I’m a runner. I’m determined.

Since that awful Sunday afternoon, the Lord has overwhelmed me with promise after promise, truth on top of truth.

I’m redeemed. I’m chosen. I’m not lost or forgotten. I’m a princess. I am His.

That's the truth that keeps my feet moving, my heart focused.

It’s a truth we can all cling to.

We are His.

Not by anything we have done on our own, but because He believes we are worthy.

Read over the book of Hosea. He was a prophet told by the Lord to marry a prostitute. He knew she would go back to prostitution again and again.

But he never stopped pursuing her.

When she felt unworthy, he told her she was loved. When she couldn’t understand why someone so pure could love someone so dirty, he told her he's staying.

We are Gomer. God is Hosea.

He pursues us relentlessly. When we turn away, when we go back to sin, when we can’t understand why Someone so perfect could choose someone so filthy, He tells us He loves us.

That’s the hope I cling to.

True love is God’s relentless pursuit of us.*

He pursues us and woos us with such grace that we have no other desire than to choose Him. *

When we can’t think straight, when our eyes can’t see clearly, we choose Him.

We choose Him by trusting Him.

In all things.

When it’s hard to let go, when it’s difficult to understand why, when it seems as though the storm has no end in sight, we trust Him.

Why?

Because He pursues us through the storm.

Because His promises are everywhere.

In our darkest hours, in our most broken moments, that’s where His mercy and grace finds us.

When I look back on my life, I rejoice in the moments where I was so broken and hurt that I had no other option than to turn to Jesus.

I rejoice in the heart He has given me. Every scar. Every broken piece.

I rejoice in Him.

So while it seems like I am back at square one and left to figure out this life alone, I can’t help but be overwhelmed with joy for being right where I am.

I love this journey.

I love being pursued relentlessly.

I love being so utterly broken and feeling the strongest Arms embrace me, whispering the sweetest of love songs.

Storms will come and storms will pass.

Rejoice in the storms.

Dance in the rain.

You are not alone.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you….since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you..” Isaiah 43: 1-4





**Quotes from Pastor Danny Lamonte and Ross Strader, respectively.
 

Saving Sober

I wish I could tell you I had a radical experience, the second greatest revelation in history, or a life changing intervention.

But I can’t.

I wish I could say that the few bottles of Coors I chugged a couple of days before leaving for Romania two summers ago were intended to be my last.

But they weren’t.

What I really wish, more than anything, is that future Haley would have slapped that bottle of Smirnoff out of past Haley’s hands my sophomore year in high school, then scolded her until past Haley realized that she should never touch alcohol again.

But I didn’t.

I grew up in a household where my dad never drank and my mom had an occasional sip once in a blue moon whenever my sister and I weren’t around. I distinctly remember saying in junior high, “ewww beer looks and smells like horse pee! I’ll never drink because it’s dumb.”

STUPID HALEY. YOU SHOULD HAVE HAD THAT TATTOOED ON YOUR HAND. (The sticky kind that can be washed off, of course, because I don’t need that reminder today.)

I am 100% my father’s daughter. I can’t count the number of times he would tell me, “You have an addictive personality just like me. Be careful.” I remember him telling me the story of why he doesn’t touch alcohol and why I shouldn’t either.

But I’ve always been the wild child, the independent one, the one who had to be spanked at least once a day because I couldn’t simply listen to advice but had to test EVERY LITTLE THING to make sure my parents meant what they said.

It started with an occasional sip here and there with “friends” in high school. Then it turned into trying to keep up with the guys- because that’s the cool thing to do, right?? Once college hit, it turned into the only way to have fun. Dating an alcoholic for a year and a half didn't help the situation, either.

By the time I turned 21, I was that drunk girl.

You know the kind.

I was also the one who would go from happy to ridiculously pissed off in .001 seconds, and then remain pissed off for the rest of the night.

I was no longer a fun girl to be around when alcohol was involved.  

I would literally turn into someone completely different, (I had about 20 million people tell me this, so it’s true).

     Seriously?? And I thought I was cute. BLESS MY HEART.

When I moved to Tyler, I made the decision to start following Jesus more than I had been before. I also had a desire to start controlling my drinking. I would tell myself, “a few drinks here and there is fine. Jesus turned water into wine, right?”

Silly Haley, didn't you know that you couldn't have just one?

In May 2013, I made my final idiotic mistake. It ate me up inside for the following days and still haunts me if I let it.  

After that, a few days before leaving for Romania for the first time, we went dancing. I had a few beers but it just wasn't the same.

Guilt plagued me.

This wasn't the first time I felt guilty after drinking, just the first time that something just didn't feel right. I know now that it was the Holy Spirit slapping me in the face. 

Mid-summer, I started to realize that I could have fun without alcohol.

Not only that, but the other interns I was surrounded by hardly drank and they were surviving just fine. I didn't think this was possible at one classy point in my life.

I wanted a love for Jesus like they had.

I wanted to live wholeheartedly for Him, all the time, not just when it was convenient.

That’s when I decided to not drink again.

When I came home in August, I was two months sober, which was the longest I had gone without alcohol since I was 16.

Today, I am 18 months sober and happier than I have ever been. WHO’DA THUNK??

Back to the wishing:

I wish I could say I was never tempted again because Jesus had such a hold on my heart.

But temptation was, and still is, everywhere.

I wish I could say I never had the thought of, “if I go home and get drunk, the hurt will go away. I’m by myself, no one will know.”

But the thought crossed my mind more times than I can count.

There’s a lot of things I wish when it comes to alcohol.

But, 18 months later, there are quite a few things more that I KNOW:

I know that life is much more enjoyable without hangovers, apologies for the decisions I made, and the felt “need” to have to drink in order to relieve stress, heartaches, or headaches.

I know that the group of friends I have now are more supportive than I deserve and, get this, they LOVE me even though I don’t drink! WHAT.

I know that I find myself randomly laughing simply because life is good. SO STINKING GOOD.

I know that I wouldn't have scored the catch of a man I call my boyfriend because let’s be real, he’s way too fabulous for Jesus to have placed him in my life any sooner. Jesus needed over two years of redeeming and restoring my heart before finally throwing the man of my dreams at me.

I mean look at us. HASHTAG TOTES PRESH.

And I KNOW, without a doubt in my mind, that Christ has the power to forgive all of our sins, heal all our diseases, redeem our lives from the pit and crown us with love and compassion, (Psalm 103-2-4). You need only faith the size of a mustard seed to move mountains. And THAT, my friends, is the power of faith in Jesus Christ. 

On the nights when I felt an overwhelming desire to drink, the Lord overwhelmed me even more with the truth that He is enough.

When I was persecuted by old friends for not drinking, He kept my feet on the rock and wouldn’t let me be shaken.

During the days when my past haunted me, and sometimes it still does, He reminds me that I am washed white as snow.

A chain that once held me down for years has been broken by the power of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

I am forgiven.

I am redeemed.

I am free.

Oh precious Heavenly Father, I’m in awe of who You are. Your grace and mercies never fail. You tell us that your love and compassions are made new each morning. Thank you for this truth, for reminding us that You will never leave us, never give up on us. Praise you for pulling my life from the pit and for having the power to pull ANYONE’S life from the darkest depths if only they trust in Your Son. Lord, You are good. So incredibly good. Praise You for Your love and forgive us when we fail You. In Your beautiful name, amen.

"He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure." Psalm 40:2

                                                                                                                            

Hello, My Name is Judas.

Last night, I attended an IF:Pray event at one of the local churches here in Tyler.

 To be completely honest, I was on the verge of skipping it so I could go to the oh so classy East Texas State Fair with some friends from bible study.

I tried justifying it by saying I would be with a good group of people who love Jesus.

Needless to say, He wasn’t convinced.

It’s been a little slow getting back into my prayer life since being home.

I’ve been casually praying for Jesus to light a fire in my soul, to pick me back up and shove me on my way to being an obedient daughter. 

And by casually, I mean I’ll mention it because I feel like it’s the right thing to say, but my heart doesn’t really yearn for the fire to be lit. Not just yet, anyways.

I mean, from society’s standards, I’m living a relatively “Christian” life.

I haven’t had a sip of alcohol in over 15 ½ months. Yay! Pat yourself on the back!

I am no longer spending time in meaningless and unhealthy relationships. Shoot, I can’t even
remember the last time I’ve been on a date. Now THAT deserves some chocolate considering your flavorful dating history, missy.

I am a little over 3 years recovered from an awful eating disorder that controlled my life for way too long. Ok, no chocolate. Maybe some fruit.

And majority of my days are spent teaching Sunday school, helping out with youth group bible study, being a part of a bible study, babysitting, doing some sort of community service project, searching for a new mission trip or anything else that keeps me from breaking any of the Ten Commandments. Whoa, Haley! You sure have changed since your undergrad years of partying, drinking, and too many other unmentionables. Let’s shout to the WHOLE WORLD so you can get recognition for how much you’ve changed!

Ever since I found myself on my bedroom floor crying out to Jesus two and a half years ago, my life has taken a turn for the better. You see, even though it was hard to find new friends, stop drinking, and avoid specific relationships, in the big scheme of things, they were tangible changes that were relatively easy to do when I finally put my mind to it.

Throughout the evening last night, two girls sang a few worship songs to break up the calls to pray. They were about to sing "Oceans" by Hillsong when one of the girls mentioned something similar to a blog I read earlier last week:

“Don’t sing the words until you mean them. They’re easy to sing, easy to want to feel, but please don’t sing them until you mean the words, knowing full well what they could entail.”

If you haven’t heard the song before, I highly recommend listening to it. The song is powerful. The first time I heard it, I had my hands up and my praising Jesus swagger going on. Oh yes, Jesus! You go ahead and call me out on that water! Better believe I’ll go where my trust doesn’t have any borders. You know I’m calling upon that name of Yours, Jesus!

But last night something was different.

I couldn’t find the strength to sing the words. I couldn’t even fake it.

The song was almost over before I could muster the words, “Spirit lead me…” and even then I had a hard time finishing the song.

The depravity of my sin had hit me.

Oh, how I have so wanted to go where my trust doesn’t have any borders, to call upon His name and feel His fingers wrapped around mine.

Yes, I have wanted to be all-consumed by Him.

But I haven’t.

I’ve definitely talked about it. I’ve boasted more than a million times about how good our Lord is. I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve said, “I’m trusting Jesus on this one.”

But have I, really?

Last night, I felt the heaviness of the “no.”

I’ve been struggling with the whole “abide in Me” aspect of the relationship.

Mr. Webster translates abide to mean: to accept or bear; to stay or live somewhere; to remain or continue.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say all of those apply to our relationship with Jesus.

But I want to focus on the “stay or live somewhere” part.

To stay in Jesus. To live in Jesus.

How in the world am I supposed to live in Jesus?? That’s impossible.

Or is it?

You see, I’m the type of girl who loves big productions. I hate to say it, but I’m a sucker for the big proposals. I absolutely love listening to missionaries who are overseas in the most forbidden land, constantly dealing with physical and verbal persecution. I am all about radical life transformations; you know, the kind that everyone notices and comments on.

Unfortunately, my preference of big productions spills over into my relationship with Jesus. I only want to trust Him in big things, like going to Romania or grieving the loss of my nephew.

Not the little things like deciding between looking at Facebook or spending time in His Word, asking a coworker if they know Jesus, deciding between watching a football game or investing in a teenager who needs a mentor.

If I can’t trust Him in the little, everyday things, how in the world am I supposed to sustain trust in Him during the big storms? Sure, I can make it through the first day, but what if persecution lasts for years? Will the strength of my trust and faith in Him be strong enough to get me through?

When I started focusing on the word “abide” and what it means, I realized that I’ve been using Jesus like an amusement park.

I go to an amusement park occasionally, get a huge rush, possibly eat too much, and then head home to tell everyone about all the crazy rides I went on.

The same happens with Jesus.

I go to Him when I need something big, I do a little mission work here and there or decide to cut out drinking, and then brag to all my friends and family about what all Jesus did.

Then it’s back to everyday life.

Abide: to stay or live somewhere.

I’ve been spending my days thinking there’s nothing I should be praying hard about because there’s nothing big going on in my life.

I mean, looking at my day… it’s pretty dull.

But every time I choose to look at social media rather than spend time in the Word, I’m spitting in Jesus’ face. Each time I stifle the urge to tell my coworker about Jesus, I’m denying who He is. When I ignore the buzzing in my ear to stay quiet and instead try my hardest to be funny to get the laughs of everyone, I’m telling Jesus that He isn’t good enough for me.

I am Peter. I am Judas. I am the rich, young ruler. I am everyone who decided that Jesus was a sinner and deserved to die on the cross.

Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I have done everything but trust in You. Holy Spirit, fill my heart and my life with all that You are. I’m scared. I don’t know what it means to abide in You, Jesus, but oh how I so desire to. My flesh continues to fight against Your words, my mind is filled with demons who are trying to keep me from You. Father, cultivate my fallow heart. Pull the weeds and thorns that have been entangling Your Word from reaching me. Jesus, the little things are just as, if not more, important than the big things. I pray that You fill me with the strength to stay in Your House and not leave the shelter that only You provide. Jesus, protect those who are facing persecution right now. Remind them that You know exactly how they feel; they aren’t alone. Oh Father, in Your precious name, I ask that you continue to bring forth the sins of my heart and wash them away. Let my life glorify You and only You because You are more than worthy, more than deserving. You are God and You are good. Forgive me for believing anything else. 

Hurting Legs and Weary Hearts

It was a cool, January morning and I was awake much earlier than the sun. It was the morning of my first marathon two and a half years ago. I had hardly slept the night before because of my nerves, but the lack of sleep didn’t slow me down when my alarm went off.

Dad was eagerly waiting for me to come out of the room so we could jump in the car and head to the center.

I can still feel the nerves fluttering in my stomach as he dropped me off long before the start of the race so I could sign in, stretch, and get ready to go.

You see, this was the first race where Dad wouldn’t be at the starting line.

This scared the mess out of me.

All through junior high, high school, and even my few college meets, Dad was always there to give me a kiss on the forehead, stand by the starting line and run around to every point he possibly could to cheer me on. Majority of the time, he ran just as much as me.

Back to the marathon.

It was in Houston, a few days after the Olympic trials. I had never run more than 22 miles and the thought of running 26.2 terrified me.

Soon enough, the gun shot and I was on my way.

Around mile 7, an hour or so into the race, my legs started to hurt.

Bad sign.

I saw my dad, mom and boyfriend for the first time at mile 10. I was on pace, but my legs were really starting to bother me. When I told Dad this, I saw the concern in his eyes.

Flashback a few weeks prior to the race. Dad and I discussed the idea of him jumping in during the middle of the race to keep me going. He wouldn’t have a badge, so there would be a possibility that he could get kicked out. We talked about it, but ultimately decided on race morning that he wouldn’t jump in for fear that it could not only get him kicked out, but also disqualify me.

Fast forward to mile 13.

Halfway through the race and my bladder got the best of me. It was my first time to stop and what a mistake that was.

Every two miles after that, I was stopping to stretch or get water.

Mile 15, I hit the dreaded wall.

I wasn’t expecting it to hit me so soon, but then again, I didn’t get the training in that I needed over Christmas break so I shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Mile 18, I was ready to quit. I had already decided that when I saw my parents again I was going to pull out.

My calves were cramped, my legs were in pain, and my mind was somewhere in the dark with no glimmer of light to be found.

Mile 18.5, I saw my mom and boyfriend.

“This is it, I’m out.”

Then, like a scene out of a movie with the Rocky theme song playing, I saw my dad in his running gear trotting towards me until he was finally at my side and in step with me.

“How you doing, Baby Girl?”

“Dead. I want to quit.”

“Haha, yea it’s about that time. Let’s keep going.”

Painfully, we hit mile 20.

Mile 22, the tears started.

For the first time since freshman year of high school, I got mad at my dad for pushing me.

Mile 23, then 24...

With less than a mile of the race left, Dad stepped off onto the sidewalk since the rest of the way was fenced off.

From the corner of my eye, I could still see him running like a crazy man, shouting to me from the sidewalk and through the crowd of people.

Mile 26.

0.2 miles left and I would be crossing the finish line.

The emotions that hit me when I finished were overwhelming.

I finished. I had stinking finished my first marathon.

I had run in honor of my Papaw, so that only heightened the emotions.

I stumbled across the finish line and, like a drunk person, wobbled to the line to receive my finisher’s award.

After what felt like days, I was on my way to meet my parents. I collapsed in their arms.

I was dead.

I was in pain.

I cried when I went to put my sweats on.

But I finished and had it not been for my dad coming to my rescue, I wouldn’t have crossed the finish line.

As I look back now on the race, I can’t help but see how closely it mimics my relationship with Jesus.

I spend months training, reading His word and submerging myself into devotionals.

Sure, I’ll miss a day or two, but it can’t hurt me too much, right?

Then a trial comes along.

At first, I can handle it. It feels a little uncomfortable but I’ll make it.

Then the storm keeps pouring.

Is it over yet, God? My heart hurts. I don’t like this.

I start to give up. The test is too much to handle. The end is nowhere in sight so I’ll just call it quits early.

I stop trusting the training I endured months before.

I’ve finally had enough. I start slowing down, ready to throw in the towel.

That’s when I see Him; our beautiful Savior in front of me, His arms open and ready to embrace me.

He starts whispering Truth in my ear.

Rest in Me. I will give You strength. I will not give you anything more than you can handle.

He takes my hand; He starts to help carry the cross that I built, that only I deserve to carry.

The tears come, the pain worsens.

At the last moment, it seems like He disappears and leaves me alone again.

But I can still feel Him. I can see the end is near.

I can hear His voice in the crowd and, even though it still hurts, I feel peace in knowing I’m not alone.

All at once, it’s over.

I can stop struggling. I can finally rest.

The pain lasts a little while longer, the tears still flow for a while even after it is finished, but oh! How wonderful it feels to fall into the arms of our Father!

Like Paul, I like to think of obstacles as races.

As the years pass, I’m learning what it means to “run in such a way as to get the prize,” (1 Corinthians 9:24); the prize of eternal life with Jesus.

I’m continuing to learn how to “train,” where to train, and with whom to train.

I’m starting the physical training for a marathon as we speak. I know that there may come a time when my body will no longer allow me to run, so I want to use this gift while I can.

But I pray that I never stop training for the spiritual marathon. There may be seasons where I train harder than others and I pray that during the low seasons, I can look up and see our Heavenly Father standing there, cheering me on into His arms.

I pray that my heart never stops beating for Him, that even when times are tough, I can look next to me and see my Daddy next to me, pushing me through to the finish line.

Folks, Mama Haley is back in action.

And all glory goes to the most amazing Coach who never gives up on a poor athlete like me.

“Do you not know that in a race all runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24-27